We were all just outside the 6 train at 28th and Park. A woman in white scrubs was trying to get an elderly woman into a cab. The elderly woman’s partner, a heavyset old man, stood nearby in a suit, watching the proceedings.
Also watching were four construction workers. Fit, burly, strapping, you know–construction workers.
The aide in the scrubs was having lots of trouble. The old woman just didn’t bend very well. The southbound cab was in traffic, cars whizzing by. It was almost a scene.
Still, the hard hats, working at 404 Park Avenue South, stood and watched.
I was walking by so I hustled over to pitch in. I asked the chubby old guy if they needed help. He said yes. I put my bag o’ breakfast on an orange pylon and assessed how I might make myself useful. In fact, it was tough to figure out–the aide was blocking most of the elderly woman as the two did their danse macabre at the cab door.
Fortunately, another passer-by was far more adept than me. He was better spoken too–his “may I offer some assistance?” absolutely creaming my “hey, do you need some help?”
He instantly found a hold on the elderly woman’s upper body, and within a minute, they had her in the cab.
Through it all, the construction workers watched.